


Reputations

by Joyce (Alysswolf)



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alysswolf/pseuds/Joyce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain America and the Howling Commandos find more than they bargained for on an unauthorized mission behind enemy lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reputations

“Any  questions?”

As if the briefing hadn’t already been strange enough, this departure from Phillips’ usual go in, get the job done and come back briefing made him uneasy.  Steve started to get a bad feeling about this mission.

Having another person present during the briefing was also unusual.  Steve turned slightly to look at the third person in the tent.   It was rare for Howard Stark to be present.  The tension between Phillips and Stark was so strong Steve expected the tent to catch on fire at any moment.

“Why are we going in after the bombing runs?”    

From the slight nod Phillips gave and the look Stark gave Phillips, Steve knew he’d asked the right question.

“The orders say, ‘Inform Captain Rogers that he and his team are to wait, repeat wait, until the bombing runs have been completed before venturing into the targeted area and completing the elimination of all threats.’ “  Phillips spat out each word of the official order.

“Unusual,” Stark commented drily.  “What do they expect Cap to find after they plaster the area?  Why send him in at all at that point”

“The orders say that the area is a suspected Hydra assembly point just inside the German border and that Rogers is to wait until the bombers have finished before moving in.  They are bringing in two squadrons to do the runs.  Hell, after they finished with the area, a raw recruit could walk into that area and mop up anything that’s left,” Phillips snapped.

“It’s a set up,” Steve said quietly.  “But for who?”

“Good question.  The bombing commences in twenty-four hours.   Twelve hours after that you and your team move in to clean up anything that’s still alive.”  Phillips paused and seemed to be about to add something further then glared at both men.  “I have work to do, go be somewhere else.”

“Come on, Cap, let me buy you a drink,” Stark said.  To Steve’s surprise he seemed more relaxed than when the briefing had started.

Steve let Stark usher him out of the tent despite wanting to stay and try to pull more information out of Phillips.  He had half turned to go back when he caught a whispered murmur from Phillips.

“And by God don’t let me catch you.”

“Come on, Cap, my tent.  Let’s catch up over a cold beer,” Stark said as he steered Steve past the staff officer hurrying past in response to a shout from Phillips.

“OK, Stark, what’s going on? “ Steve asked Stark as he accept a cold bottle of beer  and watched as Stark prowled around the tent apparently checking for casual eavesdroppers.

“Mutiny, probably, or does that only apply to the Navy?”

Steve held very still.  He didn’t hold with blind obedience to orders.  His uneasiness about this mission was apparently shared by Stark and probably Phillips.  It would explain the colonel’s attitude.

“I don’t know what’s going on and neither does the colonel but something stinks.  Would you have any objection if I kidnapped you and your team and dropped you off early in the target area?” Stark asked with a sly grin. 

“You’ll have less than twenty-four hours to find out why someone wants to obliterate the area.  I can get you there.  Getting out before the bombs start falling will be your job.” 

After a moment to consider the alternatives, Steve nodded.  “Sounds great.   When do we leave?”

As he left Stark’s tent, Steve was already pulling up the map of the area in his mind and calculating the best location for a drop.  If they ran into trouble, getting out before the bombs hit might be a problem... but his men had dealt with worse.

“I’ll be warming up my plane in two hours if you and your team would like to stop by for a tour, maybe even a brief joy ride.”  Stark smiled in a way that reminded Steve of a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse.

“See you then,” Steve promised.  Explaining the situation to the Commandos shouldn’t be a problem.  Explaining the situation to Phillips if it all went bad might lead to disciplinary action, but Steve figured he’d worry about that if it happened.

During the flight Stark filled them in on everything he knew about the area, which wasn’t much. 

“Not much to tell about this part of Germany.  Might be a perfect place to hide a military installation but supplying it would be a logistical nightmare.  The only industry of any size was a pulp mill and it burned down during the last war along with the small village around it.  No one ever bothered to rebuild it.  Maybe Hydra has found a use for it or maybe they found a formula to make the trees attack,” Stark added with a smirk.

As they approached the target area, Stark turned off the lights on his plane, taking it down low to make a sweep of the area.

“Chancy, but on the plus side, if we’re shot at, we know there’s something here,” Stark said with a nonchalance that made the Commandos smile. 

Nothing happened and as far as Steve could tell, the entire area below was a vast sea of darkness.  A few sparkles that might be campfires showed up near the factory but nothing to indicate a large encampment.  Stark took the plane back up and watched as Steve and the Howling Commandos jumped into the darkness below.

Once on the ground they fell into their standard scouting formation and headed north towards the factory. 

“Stay alert, gentlemen.  If we’re walking into a trap, I want that trap turned back on whoever set it,” Bucky ordered gruffly.

Somebody wanted to hide something and in Bucky’s experience that something was usually nasty and had sharp teeth.  Well he and the other Commandos had teeth of their own and Steve was an entire army by himself.   Hopefully, they could turn the tables.

The factory was a squat, ugly-looking stone building half in ruins.  There were maybe a dozen collapsed buildings that might once have been houses or stores in a half circle around the ruins.  

Steve studied the decomposing village through binoculars before sending the Commandos in to search it.   If Hydra was here they were doing a fantastic job of camouflage. 

Moving swiftly and silently the Commandos scoured the village.

“Nothing to report, sir.  Some of the wildlife is a bit upset, but no sign of Hydra or even a common Nazi,” Gabe Jones reported. 

“Just a thousand really angry mice,” Morita added. 

“OK, let’s check out that factory,” Steve ordered.  Unless Stark was right and Hydra had begun recruiting trees or the U.S. had declared war on German mice, there was nothing here that warranted a full-scale bombing attack.

The metal double doors to the factory were sagging in their fire-warped frames, creating a small opening.  Looking at the opening, Steve estimated that Falsworth would have no trouble fitting through, nor would Dernier, but Dum-Dum was going to have serious problems.

“Anyone who can fit through silently, go now.  Be ready to let the others through when I open the doors,” Steve said quietly.

Falsworth and Dernier slithered through easily.  Morita had to exhale before he made it through.  Bucky studied the opening for a moment before reluctantly shaking his head. 

“OK.  I’m about to make a lot of noise.   If Hydra is here, they’re going to know we’re coming,” Steve warned as he began pushing the doors apart.  Metal ground against metal as he widened the opening. 

Bucky moved through followed by Dum Dum.  Both men immediately hit the ground, weapons at the ready.  Gabe tossed their packs in and joined them.  After giving the surrounding area one last look, Steve followed his men into the dark interior, shifting his shield to the front as he passed through the doors.

As the screech of metal faded away, Steve listened for any sign that their entrance had attracted attention. 

“I was expecting something a bit more exciting, like say a legion or two of Hydra minions,” Morita commented to Dernier crouched beside him.

 “I must admit, I feel massively under-welcomed,” Falsworth murmured softly in agreement.

A noise at the very edge of his hearing range caused Steve to hold up his hand for quiet.  Everyone immediately froze.  Bucky had a puzzled look on his face as he tried to identify the sound.

Steve concentrated on pinpointing it.  A momentary flash of memory of the crowded apartments in his Brooklyn neighborhood gave him the answer.

Bucky beat him to it by a half-second.  “Hydra’s recruiting young,” he muttered.

The cry repeated a little louder then was cut off.

“A baby, sir?” Jones asked in a bemused tone although he didn’t relax his guard.

“Or a young animal,” Falsworth offered.

Steve shrugged then gestured for everyone to stay down.  Slowly he stood up.  He was taking a chance but something about this situation made him think that normal operating procedures might have to move into the abnormal.

“Who’s there?”

“Wer sind sie bitte?” a voice replied from the shadows across the floor. 

The voice sounded calm and unafraid but Steve thought he could detect a bit of wariness.  The German was formal and sounded like the polite forms Peggy was managing to cram into his head.  It certainly didn’t sound like the usual Hydra response to trespassers.

“Speak English,” Steve responded.  He had picked up enough German to know that his question had been thrown back at him.   If he could keep the guy talking long enough he might be able to figure out what was going on.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bucky beginning to move in the shadows towards the voice.  Maybe he could get close enough to make out who they were talking to.  In the meantime, Steve would try to keep the guy talking.

“Warum solte ich?”  The same calm insistent tone came out of the shadows on the far side of the factory.  Their voices echoed a bit in the hollow shell of the building.

Steve tried to place the word then finally pinned it down and resisted the urge to reply, “Because.”

“Because he’s a bloody Yank and can barely speak the King’s English, much less German,”  Falsworth shouted back.

Steve glared at Falsworth who just grinned and shrugged back.

“If you tell your man with the sniper rifle to rejoin you, I will.  He’s making my companions extremely nervous.”  Again, the voice didn’t sound afraid, although the wariness had returned.

Steve waved Bucky back.  After a glare in response, Bucky complied.  Steve could barely hear Bucky’s muttered complaint although he wasn’t certain whether it was because he’d been ordered to withdraw or because he’d been spotted.  Probably a bit of both.

“Thank you,” the voice continued politely as if they were having a pleasant discussion among friends rather than confronting a possible enemy in the dark.  “Now, I will step forward.  I presume you have torches and will shine them on me as soon as I step out of the shadows.  Please restrain your natural urge to fire on me.  I am unarmed and there are children present, as you have no doubt deduced.”

This was definitely one of the stranger encounters Steve had ever had with the enemy.  Who was this calm, self-assured gentleman and why did he pose such a threat that the U.S. Army wanted to bomb him into oblivion? 

“Agreed,” Steve replied as he shifted his shield into place and stepped forward.  Sometimes you had to spring a trap to find out what it was.

Across the factory floor he saw a shadow begin to move forward.  The light from several high-powered lanterns flashed out to reveal a  tall, angular man dressed in a black uniform.  He looked to be in his late twenties.  Steve heard growls as his men recognized the uniform of a major in the SS Totenkopfverbande.  Discipline held but the rattle of guns being shifted into position was clear.  The officer paused for a moment then continued his slow walk forward, his hands open at his side.

“Talk,” Steve ordered restraining his own urge to see how far he could make the major bounce across the floor.

“I did warn you,” the officer said.  “This uniform, while disgusting in its own right, is useful camouflage and a necessary affectation in my line of work.”

Steve remained silent. 

As the officer opened his mouth to continue, they were interrupted.

“Bloody hell.  Alistair, what in hell are you doing in that uniform?” Falsworth blurted out as he surged forward, startling Morita next to him.

With an effort Steve kept his eyes on the major and wondered how much stranger the night was going to get.

“Well, that makes this easier,” the officer said with a relieved sigh.  He smiled as a furious Falsworth charged him.  “Monty, so good to see you.”

“You two know each other?” Steve asked as he moved to cut Falsworth off.  As far as he could tell, Falsworth wanted to beat this Alistair to a pulp while Alistair was all too plainly glad to see him.

“He’s a bloody shirker,” Falsworth said.

“Not really. Just continuing the family tradition of being inconvenient to our enemies.  It would be most difficult to do what I do confined within the strictures of a military unit, hence the charade of a disability,” Alistair replied calmly.

“And you do what?” Steve interjected before Falsworth could interrupt.

“Rescue work.  I go in and retrieve people who tend to get overlooked in the big picture military operations focus on.  This uniform allows me to move around in Nazi territory with very little impediment although I came far too close to being scooped up by an SS unit headed east.  I doubt if that would have turned out well.  My friends and I have been quite successful, to the extreme displeasure of the people who really like to wear this uniform.”

“Falsworth, who is this?” Steve ordered as Falsworth appeared to be gathering breath for another verbal assault.

Falsworth took a deep breath.  “Sir Alistair Blakeney.  God help us.  Also my cousin.”

“SAS?”

“Good God, no.  Although I have a sneaking suspicion they’re not completely unaware of my activities.  Too bloody dangerous for my taste, thank you,” Alistair replied.

Steve was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland; up was down and down was sideways.  From the soft murmurs from the Commandos he suspected they were as confused as he was.

In the shadows behind Alistair, Steve saw a crowd of children and adults began to emerge from the shadows.  They were moving cautiously, ready to bolt at the first hostile movement.  No one carried firearms, but he saw two wicked-looking scythes, several pitchforks, and one large axe.

Two SS officers were with them but none of the crowd seemed afraid of them.  Unless he was mistaken the officers were standing right in the line of fire, apparently protecting the crowd instead of using them as shields.  A couple of very young children hung on to their jackets for support.  Fear showed in the children’s faces but Steve realized that it wasn’t fear of the men in SS uniforms but rather of him and his men.  They seemed fascinated by his shield but wary of the rest of the Howling Commandos.  Armed men meant danger but a guy in a suit carrying a garish shield was a strange curiosity.

“Who are these people?”  Steve asked, softening his voice to a conversational level for the first time. 

“Jews.  A few more than I anticipated, really,” Alistair said ruefully.   “I came in response to a call for help to get five students of a local shul to safety.  They’ve been successfully hiding out with the help of some of the locals.  Word reached them that someone had betrayed them, so a call went out and reached my little group.”

“Cap, that’s a lot more than five people unless I’ve forgotten how to count,” Dum-Dum said.

“Yes, and there lies our problem.  Word spread and by the time I arrived there were nearly one hundred people waiting for me.  More than I’d counted on, far more than any transportation I had in place.  I sent the original five ahead with one of my lieutenants as planned and I’ve been trying to move everyone else towards the border.  This is an area with a very active resistance group so the local Nazis can’t just move in and snap us up, but the resistance group doesn’t like Jews any more than the Nazis so we’ve had to move cautiously.  We have some very creative minds among our group so we’ve been able to delay pursuit and inflict some well-deserved smiting upon our enemies but…,” Alistair paused and for the first time Steve could see that he was on the edge of exhaustion.

The two men in SS uniforms gently detached small children and stepped forward; the older of them reaching out a hand to support Alistair.

“I’m Reggie Polgarth at your service. That tall oak over there by Blakeney is Thomas Llewellyn.”  Polgarth had the lean look of a long-distance runner, but as he drew closer Steve could see the dark circles under his eyes and the same exhausted look Alistair had.

“We’re doing fine, sir, but the children could use some food if you have any.  We haven’t eaten in two days,” Polgarth said as two of the children reattached themselves to his jacket. 

“OK, boys, Morita and Jones, stay on point, the rest of you open your packs,” Dum-Dum said after a quick nod from Bucky, who perched on a half-collapsed walkway where he had a good view of the entire area.

Shyly the children began approaching the Commandos, hesitantly at first, then enthusiastically as the Commandos held out C-rations, candy bars and assorted food.

“Alistair, if we both get out of this war in one piece, you and I are going to have a talk about keeping secrets,” Falsworth said as he headed for his pack.

“Can your people move?” Steve asked.  He was already trying to decide the best way to get these people out of harm’s way before it started raining bombs.

“Slowly.  Everyone is tired and hungry.  At least we’ve had plenty of water to drink.  This factory has been the first place we’ve been able to rest for nearly two weeks.”

“I don’t know why someone ordered a bombing raid on this place, but in about fourteen hours this whole area is going to be blown to smithereens by a lot of B56 bombers.”  

“So that was the intel they put out.  Makes sense.  If the Nazis can’t get at us, why not have the enemy do the job for them?  Someone in your high command is getting intelligence from a very questionable source, I’d say,” Alistair replied.

“Sounds like it, but we need to be out of here before the bombs arrive,” Steve replied.  “Be ready to move out in an hour.  It’s a long walk but once we’re across the border, I can probably call for some transport.”

“Thank you.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get out of this filthy uniform into some nice, comfortable civilian clothes.  Tommy, Reggie, time to desert the Reich,” Alistair called out cheerfully, getting grins from the two lieutenants who started stripping out of their uniforms.

An hour later a large, shambling crowd of people walked into the forest.  The Howling Commandos spread out around them in a protective net.  Bucky scouted out ahead while Steve and Dum-Dum walked at the head of a people heading towards safety and freedom.  Alistair and his lieutenants were at the back of the crowd helping the stragglers and encouraging the people they had come to rescue to walk just a little farther, just another mile or so before they could rest.

Dum-Dum looked back at the mob following them and gave Steve a wicked grin.  “Cap, at this rate you’re gonna get a reputation.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks go to Rhi for encouraging me to write this, answering questions and editing.
> 
> Major boos and hisses go to Marvel Comics. Captain America was never, would never be a Hydra agent. 
> 
> The SS Totenkopfverbande was the Death’s Head SS. They would probably rank just below Hydra for sheer nastiness and evil and may have been the inspiration for Marvel’s Hydra.
> 
> Just in case people don’t recognize the name Blakeney: Sir Percy Blakeney was a fictional character known as the Scarlet Pimpernel who rescued aristocrats from the guillotine during the French Revolution. I gave him a long line of descendants who have carried on his tradition of rescuing people.


End file.
